The Story of the Sound Sleeper
by Silverspotted
Summary: a "Draco watches Harry sleep" fic, told from Ron's POV. A sweet D/H ending, with R/Hr for good measure; reposted with disclaimer and author's note


Disclaimer: in no way, shape or form do I own the characters or settings used in this story. They belong to JK Rowling and the publishers and film people who own the rights to her novels.  
  
Author's note: this story was inspired by all the "Draco watches Harry sleep" fics that I have enjoyed reading. This is my first fic, but after reading so many I wanted to make a contribution  
Story of the Sound Sleeper  
  
I am usually an extremely sound sleeper. You have to be, at the Burrow, to get any sleep over the twins' chainsaw snores. That night, though, I was tossing and turning. I like to believe that it was because I'd eaten too much pie at dinner, never mind that I have often eaten more, and slept perfectly after. I prefer not to admit that it was because of my growing apprehension in face of my resolve to ask Hermione officially to a drink in Hogsmeade.  
  
Just when I thought my fatigue would let me get to sleep, my stomach began to twist and clench. Finally, I found that by lying on my side, propped up with a pillow, I felt almost normal. That's when I heard the door open.  
  
Oh, it was a surreptitious opening, stealthy. I did a quick inventory of my dorm-mates, assuring myself that I had seen them all going to bed. I was curious, not to say a bit anxious, wondering who was bothering the sixth-year dorm, but I was afraid to move to look in case my stomach started to hurt again.  
  
The sound of sock-softened steps was almost covered by my light breathing, and I stared at the red hangings of the bed across from me, as if concentrating on them would sharpen my hearing.  
  
My concentration was rewarded when the steps came closer, and then a pajama-clad figure was blocking my view. Back to me, he was looking through the opening Harry always left in his hangings at Harry himself.  
  
Please, I thought, turn around. I wanted to see his face, even though I realized that if he turned, I would still only be eye-level with his knees. But then he did something I really wasn't expecting. As if he had done this many times before, the figure pulled the dorm chair over to the side of the bed and sat down to mount vigil over Harry.  
  
Now I could see his face, and I was left agape. Malfoy, sock-footed, bed-headed, wearing striped pajamas, was sitting cross-legged on the chair, watching Harry through the gap in the curtains.  
  
I have to admit, my first thought was only "How did he get past the Fat Lady?". But then I was overwhelmed with a rush of questions: Why was Malfoy in Gryffindor? Why was he in our dorm? Why was he staring at Harry? Why did he seem so comfortable? Why did he seem to mean no harm? If my curiosity to see how this situation would play out hadn't kept me awake, trying to answer my questions would have.  
  
Malfoy stayed there all night, chin cupped in his hand, watching Harry. I say all night, but it was well after midnight when he crept in, and he left at the first sign of dawn, conscientiously replacing the chair to its original place. Harry slept peacefully all night, didn't notice a thing.  
  
I fell asleep after Malfoy left from sheer exhaustion, and had to be dragged half-asleep to breakfast. After a couple of coups of coffee though, I was quite awake.  
  
The trip to Hogsmeade was very enjoyable, especially since Hermione eagerly accepted my offer of a drink. I think she's as happy, and can I say relieved, that we are finally official.  
  
Of course, my extreme happiness at how things had turned out, coupled with my extreme sugar intake, meant that I didn't sleep well that night, either. I spent quite a while staring at the ceiling, listening to my dorm- mates' breathing even out as they fell asleep.  
  
Except for my date with Hermione, which had eclipsed just about everything, the trip to Hogsmeade had been pretty normal. I had wondered if my knowledge of Malfoy's nightly jaunt would change my perception of any encounter with him. However, even armed with this new knowledge, I didn't notice anything unusual.  
  
So there I was, staring at the ceiling, wondering if I should start to let Hermione win at chess now and again, when I heard the dorm door open. Malfoy was back. I watched as the routine of the night before was repeated, before sleep engulfed me.  
  
I reverted back to my deep-sleep tendencies again, so I can't tell you if he came every night. But occasionally, I would stay up later than the rest finishing an essay, and would still be counting sheep, trying to get potions or divination out of my head, when I'd hear Malfoy creep in.  
  
I always stayed as still as I could, not wanting for him to know that I saw him, 'cause then I'd have to do something about it. For the moment I was content to leave things as they were, since the whole situation didn't seem to be hurting anyone. I successfully kept to my course of inaction until a night about a month later.  
  
I had spent some time in the Astronomy Tower with Hermione after hours. I admit that I had left my curtains closed so that Malfoy wouldn't notice that I wasn't asleep, though honestly I didn't really think that I wouldn't be in bed by the time he got there.  
  
Hermione and I were quite a bit longer in the tower than I think either of us expected, not that we didn't enjoy it. It was quite late when the Fat Lady let us in. After kissing Hermione goodnight, I let myself into the dorm, not being particularly stealthy about it. Malfoy heard me, and it was the first time I've seen anyone really look like a deer caught in the headlights. I put my finger to my lips in the universal sign for silence, and beckoned for him to follow me.  
  
Warily he did, and we walked silently back down the stairs to the common room. I lit the fire, then we installed ourselves in armchairs, facing each other. I wasn't really sure what to say, but want to say it before Malfoy gets over his surprise and his habitual smirk returns.  
  
"You look uncharacteristically peaceful when you watch him, Malfoy," I say softly. He does a double take.  
  
"You've seen me before?"  
  
"Well, yes. Otherwise I probably would have freaked out tonight."  
  
We both realized how true this is, I'm not known to have the most even of tempers.  
  
"Why didn't you freak out before?" he asks.  
  
"Because I was feeling sick the first time I saw you and was afraid to move. After that, I don't know, I guess 'cause I thought it was kind of cute."  
  
"Cute?" Malfoy's sneer is back in place. Shit. That was not what I wanted. I try to amend.  
  
"Yes cute. And sweet. At night you seem, I don't know, more like a fully rounded human, with a full range of emotions, not just those associated with slimy pompous gits." He narrows his eyes at this.  
  
"And this is why you've never spoken to me about this?"  
  
"Well, yes." I try to figure out how to explain it without insulting him. "I left you in peace because for once you looked like you cared about something for a reason other than your pride. But if you had ever looked like you would hurt him . . ."  
  
"I would never hurt him while he was sleeping."  
  
"Glad to hear it," I comment dryly. "You might want to try not to hurt him in the day, either," I add, "I'm not sure your night-self would take kindly to it."  
  
Malfoy blinks, mouth forming a 'huh?'. But then he blinks again, and all the animosity that had been creeping into his face disappears.  
  
"Do you come every night?" He nods. Then, out of sheer curiosity, I ask, "How do you get past the fat lady?"  
  
He smiles, "She's very amenable to flattery," and then an afterthought, almost only for himself, "and to stories of unrequited love."  
  
Before he can become embarrassed about what he said and clam up completely, I ask, "How long have you been coming?"  
  
"Oh, months. Since the start of term almost." He seems almost sad, as if his nightly excursions have been going on long enough to prove that they are futile.  
  
"Have you ever talked to Harry?" I don't want to suggest this, I quite like the status quo but the look in his eye prompts me. "In the day, I mean? Or let this side of your personality shine through?"  
  
He only shakes his head morosely, "I haven't had the chance."  
  
"You should" I tell him.  
  
"I know. I would, except that . . ." he stops. We both know what the 'except thats' are.  
  
Not only would such a change in character have Malfoy hauled off to Madam Pomfrey's strait away, it is unlikely that Harry would trust him if he suddenly became nice. Now we are both glum. We sit, contemplating the inhibitions, staring at the fire.  
  
We both hear the footsteps on the stairs at the same time. Malfoy looks ready to run, but realizes that a sprint across the common room would just make him more visible, and instead tries to burrow into his chair.  
  
I turn to the stairway, and shortly see Harry walk into the room, yawning. He sees me and shuffles over.  
  
"I woke up," he explains, "didn't see you in your bed so thought I'd come see down here before concluding that you had been trapped in the Astronomy Tower, and sending out a search party"  
  
He's too tired still to make good jokes, but I play along.  
  
"You know there's no need to worry about that. Hermione certainly knows spells to get us out."  
  
"If she wanted to get out," he counters as he finds himself a chair, and I blush.  
  
It is only as Harry sits down that he notices Malfoy. He does a double take, then yawns. Malfoy looks extremely worried.  
  
"I'm too tired for this," Harry mumbles under his breath, Then he turns to me, "Why's he here?"  
  
Momentarily, I'm at a loss for words, and out of the corner of my eye I see that Malfoy is equally unsure of what to say. Then Harry comes up with what I think is the biggest nonsequitor of the night.  
  
"Ron, do the twins ever wake you up in the night, at the Burrow, with their snoring?"  
  
I shake my head, "No, normally I sleep like a log."  
  
"Have you been having trouble sleeping lately?"  
  
Again I shake my head. Harry turns towards Malfoy, and smiles.  
  
"Thank you for comforting me the other night. I hope I didn't bruise your arm."  
  
Malfoy is agape, and so am I. I think I release a definite 'huh?', so Harry explains.  
  
"Two nights ago I had a really bad dream, and woke up. Someone was there, and he tried to get me to calm down, and I grabbed his arm, and practically squeezed the life out of it. I thought it was you, Ron, except that the voice wasn't right."  
  
"It definitely wasn't me," I agree.  
  
"There are other boys in your dorm," points out Malfoy.  
  
But Harry is smiling again. "Against all odds, they sleep more soundly than Ron. But you shouldn't have spoken," softening at Malfoy's scared face, "It was your voice."  
  
"Couldn't you have figured that out in class?" I ask, a bit confused. We hear Malfoy speak daily, whether we want to or not.  
  
"His voice is different quiet," he tells me, then turns to Malfoy, "Your voice is much nicer when you're being nice."  
  
I let out a big yawn. They both look back at me.  
  
"I'm going to bed, otherwise I'm going to fall asleep in class, and we don't even have History of Magic." The two laugh. "Plus," I add, "If Hermione thinks that spending time in the Tower is having a bad effect on my education, she'll never let us go back."  
  
They laugh as I head to the stairs. I am halfway up when my curiosity overcomes my tiredness. Softly, I slip down the stairs and sit, unnoticed, a couple of steps from the bottom. Harry and Malfoy are both busy staring at the fire. Then Harry interrupts the silence.  
  
"I meant it when I thanked you for comforting me."  
  
Malfoy, uncomfortable, says, "You're welcome."  
  
"You've been here before, when I've had nightmares," Harry barely makes it a question.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"You've said that already, Harry."  
  
So Harry walks over to Malfoy, pulls him out of his chair, and hugs him tightly. Once he is released, Malfoy asks, "What was that for?"  
  
"Another thank you."  
  
"What for?"  
  
"You called me Harry." Smiling, he is only a hand's-span from Malfoy.  
  
Seeing them there, in the firelight, so close and not separated by animosity, I suddenly think that they would make a sweet couple. An unusual one, but a sweet one none the less.  
  
I swear, just after I had that thought, Malfoy lifts his hand to Harry's cheek, and strokes it with a touch light as a feather. Harry grabs his free hand and twines their fingers in a grip that is vice-like and gentle at the same time. I realize they have so much to say to each other, and I start to pray that they will find the words.  
  
But then I notice the dawn, as it rises over the trees and shines into the common room, much more advanced than Malfoy ever lets it get before he leaves. He notices it too, drops his hand, and his eyes to inspect the hand still held by Harry. Harry looks at it too.  
  
"It's dawn. I have to get back before I'm missed." He looks up to Harry, hoping he understands, and Harry nods. Then he leans down and gently kisses Malfoy, just a quick pressure, and I wonder if that is one of the words I was praying he would find.  
  
"C'mon," he says, "I'll see you out."  
  
The two walk to the portrait hole, hands still linked. They stop at the hole, and Harry smiles as he always does when he's got an inner joke.  
  
"Goodnight Draco," he says.  
  
Draco smiles and pulls him into a tight hug. As they part he moves to kiss Harry. It's gentle still, but longer than the first, and across the room, it's making me blush. I bet Harry has a question in his eyes when they part, for Malfoy says  
  
"That was thank you. For . . ." Harry just smiles and kissed him again.  
  
Fleetingly, I wonder if they won't be found still there by the entire house trying to get to breakfast. But then with a squeeze of hands they let go and Malfoy steps out the door.  
  
I suddenly remember that I'm not supposed to be still here, so I hurry back up to the dorm as silently as I can. I'm settled in bed with the covers up to my chin when Harry comes in.  
  
He looks a bit dazed, but extremely happy, and I bet that if it was daytime he'd be humming. He rustles into bed, and as I drift off I see his silly smile. My last thought, just before the blackness is "Does this mean I have to call him Draco now?" 


End file.
